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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25190005">taking lessons on your old advice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/maternaljoke/pseuds/maternaljoke'>maternaljoke</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sleepytwt follower goal requests [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, Oneshot, Platonic Cuddling, Short</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:33:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25190005</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/maternaljoke/pseuds/maternaljoke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>in which its christmas eve, and sleepyboisinc + tommy watch christmas movies together after a long week of mcc training.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave | Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; Phil Watson, No Romantic Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sleepytwt follower goal requests [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823998</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>869</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>taking lessons on your old advice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the suns up and its never down<br/>ive been kind of worried how this all will sound<br/>give me a while and ill come around<br/>its almost fantasy<br/>my legs are weak and my mouth is dry<br/>ive been taking medicines but not on time<br/>ive been craving company ill never find<br/>its almost fantasy<br/>--<br/>fog lake - almost fantasy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Bye Fundy!”</p><p>Tommy waves as the car pulls out the driveway. It leaves dark, ashy indents in the earth’s pelt of snow, slowly thickening with each flake that falls. </p><p>Tommy can’t make out Fundy’s face through the darkness, just the wiping of his car's windshields and the glow of it’s headlights. He watches it move until he can no longer see it under the blanket of the night, before turning to face the house, tall and receding. He heads up to the door, rapping his gloved knuckles against the chipped, frozen wood.</p><p>The red stinging of his face becomes suddenly more prominent as the door opens and he’s hit with a blast of artificial heat. He’s engulfed in an even warmer hug, soft and comforting.</p><p>“Tommy! Merry Christmas Eve. I’m glad you could make it. Was the drive alright? Is Fundy still here?”</p><p>“It was fine, Fundy’s a good driver. He just left.” Tommy juts his head over his shoulder towards the empty driveway. Phil blinks over at it, before nodding, seemingly to himself, and tugging Tommy into the golden heat.</p><p>Phil moves away to lock the door. Tommy feels tension etch out of him at the clicks and snaps of locks. </p><p>Phil moves to fuss over Tommy’s winter gear, tugging his scarf and gloves off of him despite Tommy’s quiet protests. </p><p>“I’m not a child.”</p><p>“Be quiet, child.” A second voice teases. </p><p>He glances over his shoulder as Phil unbuttons his coat to see a long-legged brunet, lounging back on the couch while flicking through some streaming program. His hair is dotted with melted snow droplets and his face flushed red on the cheeks and nose, even faintly on his knuckles and revealed collarbones. He looks warm, comfortable and content, amusement shining in his reflective gaze.</p><p>“Fuck you, Wil.”</p><p>“Language.” Phil quietly scolds as he finishes unbuttoning Tommy’s coat, moving Tommy’s arms up to slide the sleeves off. </p><p>“Sorry Phil.”</p><p>“You wear the sweater Tech’ made?” Wilbur asks, voice focusing in on Tommy and away from the TV. Tommy doesn’t bother to look back at Wilbur, focusing on fixing his hair out of the mess it’s left in when Phil tugs his hat off. Phil ruffles his hair for him, leaving it a damp, scruffy mess. </p><p>“Yeah.” Tommy groans. </p><p>Phil snickers at Tommy’s obvious embarrassment, looking down at his sweater.</p><p>“Well, don’t leave me hanging, lets see it.”</p><p>“You already know what it looks like!”</p><p>“Yeah, but not on you.”</p><p>Tommy groans, rolls his eyes, and does a dramatic turn around, stretching his arms out slightly and spinning on one heel. Wilbur looks over at him, blinks, and quietly snorts, clearly restraining further laughter. His cheeks redden even more than they already are at the effort.</p><p>“Don’t you say a word, <em> Mr. Cum </em>.” Wilbur huffs and manages to swallow down his laughter. </p><p>An amused snort comes from Phil. “I’m glad all I got was Dadza.”</p><p>“That’s cause I love you!” A voice calls from the kitchen.</p><p>“Aw, you love me too, right Tech?” Tommy steps over to the kitchen archway and pokes his head through it, watching Techno as he mixes something in a large, red plastic bowl.</p><p>“Eh.”</p><p>“Techno!” Phil calls from the living room.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s hard to love someone named Child.”</p><p>“You're the one who made the sweater!”</p><p>Techno flips him off. Tommy makes a dramatically insulted face, reeling back in shock. Techno snorts.</p><p>“Go back out there, nerd. I’ll be out in a minute.”</p><p>“I still haven’t seen your sweater though.”</p><p>“You will.” </p><p>Tommy rolls his eyes and stalks back into the living room. Phil’s now sitting down near Wilbur, an empty space in between them. </p><p>“Sit!” Phil pats the empty spot. The living room is dark, the only light coming from the kitchen and the TV. It’s oddly comforting. Tommy hops over the back of the couch and flops down, sinking into the arm Phil rests behind him.</p><p>“The Nightmare Before Christmas? Isn’t this a Halloween movie?”</p><p>“That's what I thought, but Phil and Techno insisted it’s a Christmas movie.”</p><p>“We should watch Die Hard next.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck off.”</p><p>“How come you can swear?!”</p><p>“‘Cause I’m not a child.”</p><p>“Oh, screw you!”</p><p>“Language.”</p><p>“Oh- that’s not even a bad word!” Tommy squawks incredulously. Footsteps echo from behind them.<br/>
<br/>
“What’d Toms say?” Techno asks with amusement. Tommy looks over at him, holding a popcorn bowl in his hands, and feels affection spark in his chest.</p><p>“You used my nickname.” He blinks at the white stitching on Techno’s sweater.</p><p>“Oh, yeah.” Techno briefly glances down at it. “The Blade just sounded right, y’know?”</p><p>Tommy nods. Techno sits himself on the end next to Wilbur, setting the popcorn bowl to rest in between Tommy and Wilbur. </p><p>Tommy yawns as the movie starts.</p><p>“Aw, is the child sleepy?” Wilbur teases.</p><p>“Fuck off, Wil.”</p><p>“Language.”</p>
<hr/><p>“This is definitely a Halloween movie.”</p><p>“It’s a Christmas movie! It’s perfect for tonight. You should love it, it’s all musical and shit.”</p><p>“Language.” </p><p>“Sorry Phil.”</p><p>“I do like it! I just don't think it’s a Christmas movie. I mean, Jack’s <em> literally </em>from the Halloween world. Land. Dimension. Whatever.”</p><p>“Door?” Phil suggests from the other side of Tommy.</p><p>“This isn’t your fight, Phil.”</p><p>Tommy yawns, his vision blurry. </p><p>His whole body aches with fatigue, he wants to bury himself into Phil's side and black out into nothingness. Phil seems to notice this, wrapping his arm around Tommy’s shoulder and letting him burrow further into his side. </p><p>He closes his eyes and basks in the warmth surrounding him.</p><p>When he opens them again, the room is quiet. The sky outside is a light dusky blue, early and dim. The snow’s still. He feels warm everywhere.</p><p>Wilbur is next to him, laying down facing away from him. All Tommy can make out is a mess of knotted brown curls and a dimly lit yellow sweater. Laying stretched out atop the musician is Techno, or what Tommy assumes is techno based on the pink and red blur he can see sprawled out on Wilbur.</p><p>Tommy feels a hand running through his hair and pauses. His voice is low and fuzzy with sleep. “Dad?”</p><p>“Hey, Toms.” Phil's voice is equally soft, a barely audible mumble near Tommy’s ear.</p><p>“Shit, Phil, sorry.” Tommy winces in embarrassment. </p><p>“Don’t worry about it, Toms.”</p><p>“What? No… no ‘language’?”</p><p>“Nah.” Phil scratches at the back of Tommy’s neck. Tommy leans into it. “Too early.”</p><p>Tommy yawns. “Oh fuck.” Phil hums curiously. “It’s MCC today.”</p><p>“We have time. It’s not until tonight. I know you’ve been training like crazy.”</p><p>“I gotta beat you…” Tommy yawns. “You sleepybois.”</p><p>“You seem like the only sleepy boy here.”</p><p>“Shut up.” Tommy mutters under his breath, but his tone of voice gives his weighted tiredness away. He snuggles further into Phil’s lap against his will.</p><p>“The others won't be awake for a few more hours. We’ll exchange gifts later on, don’t worry.”</p><p>“I’m not… going back to sleep.” He closes his eyes despite his words, letting the weight pull him down as he mutters nonsense under his breath.</p><p>He hears a low, amused snicker.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, Toms.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you can find me on twitter at <a href="https://twitter.com/wilbursand">@wilbursand</a>!</p><p>i tried a bit of a different style with this one. i had fun writing it, though im not too happy with how it turned out. oh well</p></blockquote></div></div>
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